Showing posts with label troubadour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label troubadour. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Of Almost-Poems





Ah troubadour, vexing the schemes of pen
You dangle unformed; vainly we beseech
Your laughter drifting just beyond our reach
A madrigal taunting the dreams of men

Almost, the wind combing the moon-brushed hill
Unravels your mute, mystic revelry
We glean the quiet, poised in poesy
But you evade the ink-breath in our quill

Elusive lover; will we ever know
The sweetness of your nectar, fancy-spun
A sparkle on the sea in glints of sun
A rush of vapor-ocean ebb and flow

Ah, troubadour of thought-blood left unshed
The compositions in your phantom sigh
Evokes a hunger in the poet’s eye
For all the rivers that remain unbled

© Janet Martin

Does it drive you crazy too...reaching for that thought that cannot be spelled?




Friday, August 3, 2012

Timeless Troubadour



My darling, tender, timeless troubadour
You come to me when deepened skies are still
No violin, no flute and no guitar
To soothe the sighs that press against my will

Oh mediator of the heart and mind
Oh, miracle of half-forgotten hope
Oh twilight troubadour, reckless yet kind
You stroll across the spirit’s silvered slope

With obscure fingers, softly you caress
The gilded latch, secured by daylight schemes
And easily it seems that you access
The storehouse of fond memories and dreams

Grand Maestro of entrancing, ethereal art
Oh lover of the tranquil midnight fell
You curve your melody around my heart
And move me in your transcendental swell

My darling, tender, timeless troubadour
I tremble ‘neath the movement of your touch
Oh gentle minstrel of the midnight hour
Tuning the breeze, the moon, the stars and such

Then, as you strum these astral instruments
And earth becomes a begging ball-room floor
You take me in your willing arms to dance
My darling, tender, timeless troubadour

© Janet Martin

Dream a Little Dream of Me   Michael Buble` 

J~